


Einstein Was Right

by stilinstuck (superagentwolf)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Pre-Slash, Season 6A, Stiles Comes Back
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-27
Updated: 2017-08-27
Packaged: 2018-12-20 16:44:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11925018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/superagentwolf/pseuds/stilinstuck
Summary: Derek remembers Stiles. The rest join him in short order and they're left trying to bring him back. It should all be well and good, except Derek doesn't know why he remembered first.Or maybe he does and maybe Stiles does, too. So what's the real question?





	Einstein Was Right

He remembers.

It comes back to him in a sudden rush, a face and a laugh and a voice, the feeling of cool skin beneath his palm. He _remembers_ Stiles.

It chokes him. Everything he’s feeling catches in his throat, just there below his chin, blocking his air and constricting his chest. His eyes are wide and he inhales sharply, wanting to scream. He can feel the memories hitting him like hail- Stiles holding him up in the pool, Stiles facing off against Peter, Stiles trying to fend off an Alpha, Stiles not himself and waking with terrified cries.

Stiles staring at him, the desert sand hot beneath their bodies.

His eyes sting. He feels immediately transparent and stupid. He realizes how ridiculous this has been- the little moments, dumb exchanges, threats and wary glances and eventual partnership.

_I saw him in a dream and he woke me up._

The others are struggling. Scott wants to remember, knows there’s something missing- Lydia feels it in her core, can just taste a name on her tongue. They were the closest ones to him.

Yet somehow, it’s Derek that’s remembering.

He doesn’t even know why he came back. His life was going fine- he had a place to stay, work, a new start. Nothing to complain about. He never wanted to crawl back. Yet here he is because of a bad feeling and a phone call, the fog in his mind intensifying as he drove. It was as if he had forgotten something at home except he hadn’t; his toothbrush was there, the emergency contacts, the weapons. The book.

There was nothing missing but he’d felt a sudden ache stronger than he’d ever felt before. The dull throb had increased to a pulse, some foreign heart ripped from his hands as he was left with the ghost of its beating. He had almost pulled over at one point, so sure that he had forgotten something incredibly important. He had listed his family- a short list; Cora, Malia. Then he’d felt a twinge. It wasn’t right.

So, he’d thought of friends. Allies. Scott, the one who had reminded him he could have an equal. Lydia, stronger than anyone had known, even herself. Kira, somewhere learning how to be herself without giving into a tumultuous power. Liam, the scared Beta with so much to learn. Isaac, somewhere with Chris, both learning how to live again. Jackson, long gone but still there. The Betas he’d buried.

Except then the pain had come back stronger, a crippling wave that had made his chest ache as if he were impaled with a pole again. He couldn’t shake it. It had stuck there, refusing to go away, eating at him minute by minute as he drove towards Beacon Hills. It had stayed even as they spoke, trying to figure out what they were missing. Who.

They had talked and debated and tried and then it had come to him, standing in front of a board filled with questions and answers in multicolored markers.

Because it was so _Stiles._

“Derek?”

Lydia. Hesitant. Of course she would notice- of course she would notice him, falling apart in the middle of the conversation. The others turn to look at him, wide-eyed and concerned.

“Stiles,” he says simply, blinking away the tears threatening to fall. He can even see him standing in front of the board, gesturing wildly, a chess set sitting on a table in his bedroom.

“…how could we forget him?” Lydia asks, shaking her head faintly, tears welling in her eyes.

“I…he…he was my best friend,” Scott says, crushed.

“He was nice to me,” Malia says, brow furrowed as she tries to remember, “he helped me.”

“He helped everyone,” Liam corrects, some faint call making him tilt his head.

“How do we get him back?” Derek asks immediately, heart beating faster, “And-,”

His world falls apart again. He remembers someone else- remembers Stiles, snarky and sarcastic, so willing to stand up to anyone. To stand up to Peter.

“Oh, my-,” Derek breathes, the heels of his hands digging into his eyes, “Peter. Peter- my uncle- he’s there, too. Wherever they are.”

“At least they’re not alone,” Scott says immediately, “but we need to get them back. Both of them.”

Derek doesn’t even know where to start.

It turns out, a few days later, that he doesn’t have to figure it out. Peter comes to help them.

-

“Will this work?”

“We have to try,” Lydia says, looking to Scott, “You two were like brothers. Maybe it’ll work if you try.”

He nods and draws back, inhaling slowly. Remembering.

Derek wonders what he’s thinking of. The night they went out and Scott was bitten? Stiles standing by Scott, helping him figure out the change as it overtook his best friend’s life? Stiles and Scott practicing for lacrosse together?

Maybe it’s even before that, he thinks. Maybe it’s from when they were children, Stiles over at Scott’s house playing with nerf guns. Maybe after his mother had died and he’d been so alone, too young to really know how to help his father or even himself, his small body curled into a ball on his bed.

Scott opens his eyes, shaking his head. His voice is uneven when he speaks.

“It’s not working,” he says, “maybe…Malia, you were together. Maybe it’s more recent. More powerful.”

“I’ll try.”

She doesn’t think it will work; that much is clear. She still tries. He thinks maybe that’s Stiles- the way he can bring them together for something like this, make them _believe._ He’d always been realistic but there had been some undeniable spark there- something no threat had been able to fully squash. Not even Theo.

He wonders if Malia is thinking about how Stiles was kind to her. How he took her in stride, making jokes and pointing out her wild mentality without abandoning her. Seeing her for who she was and offering to help, showing the compassion and humor he’d always show to others.

He wonders if she remembers kissing him. Sleeping in his bed, surrounded by his scent, warm and comfortable, the wild instinct pulling her back to him every time. Back to safety.

“I can’t,” Malia finally says, looking frustrated and broken, as if maybe she’d wanted to be able to do it. Derek can understand. “I’m sorry- I just…I can’t.”

“…Lydia,” Scott says, “when I remember him, I remember you. Maybe…”

“There was always something there,” Malia agrees, blinking through tears. They’re not like Malia and Derek wants to comfort her but knows it’s not the right time.

He doesn’t point out that he hasn’t tried. After all, when had he really interacted with Stiles? Honestly and completely?

Lydia nods and breathes carefully, speaking as she withdraws into her memory.

“I…I knew he loved me,” she says, shaky, “he did so much. But I just…I never said it back.”

It’s not true, he thinks. It was always obvious how much they cared. Stiles had always been supportive of her. Protective. Lydia had been right there investigating with him, providing a grounding voice whenever he veered off track. She’d been one of the most worried when he was possessed. She’d been willing to enter his poisoned mind.

Who was he in the face of such a love? They had known each other for so long, through so much, with understandings he could never scratch the surface of. Malia was right. There was always something there.

Except she’s struggling. She’s crying, trying to concentrate, desperate to make it work. Derek hesitates for a fraction of a second.

 _Go,_ he thinks, _for once. Just go._

He steps forward and stands by her, breathing in slowly, concentrating. He sends Malia and Scott a look before he closes his eyes and he can hear them moving close. They stand there, side by side, and remember together.

He thinks about something inconsequential. A little moment, so insignificant at the time- probably still meaningless, if he were to ask Stiles. It was at the hospital. Derek had been there, out cold, until someone had woken him. Stiles, worried and frantic, ready to slap him to get him up. For a moment, Derek had been shocked, confused as to who was over him.

He’d thought about the pool at the time. How he had fallen, sure that he would be left for dead, and then Stiles had come right back and pulled him out. It was the same- this time, he’d been sure he would be left on the floor of the hospital. Except Stiles had come for him, wide-eyed and certain, doing all that he could to help.

_I have to help him now. I have to bring him back._

Someone drives by the window. The headlights are blinding and he draws away, instinctively blinking, distraught for a moment because he thinks he’s ruined their chances.

Instead, he sees a silhouette outlined in the bright light. He opens his mouth, voice stuck somewhere beneath his heart, unable to form the right words. The word. Name.

“Stiles,” Lydia realizes, half sobbing, and the familiar face comes into focus.

He is pale and drawn, tired. Yet his honey-brown eyes are relieved, proud, and so full of love that Derek wants to collapse under their weight. Stiles smiles, an exhausted curve of his lip.

“I knew you’d remember,” he says, the address so wide it touches each of them.

Except Derek turns away a little, knowing who it is meant for. The ache doesn’t really go away. It intensifies instead, the realization that he has lost what he found coming full circle. He wonders if it’s what Stiles realizes the night Jackson was changed, the headlights of his Jeep illuminating the scene.

He thinks, wouldn’t it be funny if it were Stiles’ Jeep in the parking lot. The same light shining on them again, except this time, it was Stiles and Lydia. How it was supposed to be.

Derek pulls away, thinking that maybe he can go back to how he was before, knowing Peter will need help now more than ever. He leaves the others there, trying to remind himself that he’s not losing anything. He never really had it to begin with.

-

“I never told you…,” she says, still red-eyed, but Stiles stops her.

“You did,” he assures her, quiet. They’re sitting is his Jeep, fittingly. “I think I knew even if we didn’t say anything about it.”

“Open secret,” she says, trying to smile.

“Yeah,” he agrees, looking out on Beacon Hills.

It feels like it’s been years. He wonders about his father and what’s going on with everyone else. He knows they have some time before they have to figure out what to do about the horsemen.

“Stiles…I’m sorry.”

“Why?”

“I…I might have been able to, once. Or maybe even later,” she amends, pushing hair away from her face as she tries to explain.

“I know,” he says, “we’re just never on the same page, though, are we?”

“I guess not,” she laughs a little.

“I figured that out a while ago,” he says, “and I still love you. That’s not…conditional.”

“We’re not that,” she agrees, smiling, “not _a couple_.”

“Yeah. We’re more like Mulder and Scully,” he says, fully aware of what he’s saying, “partners for life.”

“Except I’m not having your child,” she says, mock serious, “not even when I’m thirty and famous.”

“Yeah,” he grins, feeling it fade when he thinks about what they’re saying. The acknowledgment now between them, verbal and crystalline. It doesn’t hurt as much as it should. “Be safe, okay?”

“You’re the one that got erased,” she reminds him. She still hugs him, though, a brief kiss lingering on his cheek.

She leaves his car and goes inside her house. He is left there, tears burning in his eyes, unwilling to go back home just yet. He feels like if he closes his eyes, he’ll wake up back where he was, forgotten and alone.

It’s not the worst thing in the world, having a soul mate. Especially a smart and strong one like Lydia. He just…wishes he could have the same romance Scott and Allison had. Lydia and Jackson. Kira and Scott, even. He wants it even if he knows it’s asking more from life. More, when he’s already been given someone willing to fight for his memory.

He can only really think of one place to go.

-

The place is clear. The forest is empty in this spot, no indication of the home that used to stand there remaining. He inhales, thinking of the pine needles and the immediate green they bring to mind.

There is a small snap nearby and he pauses, wondering if this is the moment he’s pulled back. He almost can’t bring himself to care. If it’s an elaborate dream, he’s not complaining. It all worked well. Maybe he can use it as therapy during his time as a memory.

“…Stiles?”

 _Who did you expect?_ Some sly voice echoes within him but he pushes it away, turning to look at the man. He feels a little sting- tells himself it’s the memories Derek carries. Not that it’s entirely true. After all, he’s _been_ a memory. Things like that are different to him, now.

“Hey,” he says, not sure what else to say.

“…you’re not...,” _with Lydia_ is the unspoken end of the question. Derek trails off, half-guilty, avoiding eye contact.

“We talked. She needs rest,” he adds, hoping the first half of his answer will be clear enough, “I think you probably do, too.”

“Probably.”

“…why are you here?” He’s aware it’s a rude question. Gift horses and all that. Still, he can’t pin down why Derek is there. The man has effectively been gone for some time.

 _Why would I, of all people, bring him back?_ He reminds himself that they didn’t know it was him- except it was, clearly, and there was no chance of it being someone else.

“I…knew there was something wrong.”

“Peter,” Stiles thinks aloud, explaining to himself. _That’s why._ “I guess it’s worse since he was family.”

“…I don’t think that’s why,” Derek says, careful.

“What do you mean?”

“I think it was…two people so close. It was more…heavy. I felt it more.”

“Close?” Stiles echoes, sure he’s just misinterpreting. _We aren’t close._

Except Derek steps forward, looking almost as vulnerable as when his Betas had died, and Stiles almost cries. He wants to stop the hurt- whatever it is- and reassure the man. He’s not sure what he’s reassuring for, though.

_Liar._

“Close,” Derek agrees, very careful, and Stiles can count his freckles.

They haven’t changed. They’re still there, right beneath hazel eyes and stupidly good eyelashes. Things Stiles had always noted in passing, telling himself it was a mature understanding of beauty. That it was his hyperactive mind or his need for something to latch onto. That it was him finding things to pick out about a man who was secretive and rude and so very frustrating.

 _Lies. All lies,_ he thinks, knowing with a sudden, crushing certainty. He had gone out of his way the same way he did for everyone else, he’d told himself. The same way he’d tried to save Lydia from Peter, he’d tried to save Derek from drowning. The way he’d helped Scott, he’d helped Derek after his Betas had died. The way he teased Malia, he’d teased Derek.

The same. It was the same, he told himself. Except it wasn’t. It was never the same because it was Derek- someone he wasn’t allowed to love at the time, legally or otherwise. Someone he hadn’t really been allowed near by Scott, who was always so careful. Someone he hadn’t wanted to get close to because some part of him knew.

Stiles opens his mouth and nothing comes out. No _I’m sorry_ , no _I wanted to hate you and I ended up liking you instead,_ no _I was fine with you leaving_. No answers. All that comes out is a choked noise, some compressed emotion spilling from his lips like the remnants of the nogitsune that had poisoned him.

He can’t wait anymore. He has to know. He pulls Derek in, one hand on the back of his neck, resolving that if it doesn’t feel right or good he can brush it off. Pretend it wasn’t meant to happen.

He almost cries when they kiss. It would be shitty, he thinks, _thank God I didn’t_ , but he can’t help it. It’s warm and real and somehow more concrete than the hugs and pats he’s received since he got back. Derek is careful, barely brushing his lips against Stiles’ as if he thinks Stiles is going to disappear again at his touch.

Stiles backs away after a moment, fingers lingering on the man’s neck, drawing relief from the warm skin. Somehow it just made things more confusing. There’s no sense of resolution- no _aha_ moment, no sudden realization that _we were meant to be because x._ All that’s left is the lingering desire to know more.

“I don’t know why I care so much about you,” Stiles says, knowing it sounds cold and terrible. He can’t think of any other way to say it.

“I care about you,” Derek says, “because you’re human. You’re strong. You’re stupidly loyal and smart and always there to keep everyone else in check.”

“Wow, Derek, tell me how you really feel,” Stiles manages, his laugh coming out devoid of sounds, a bare puff of breath. He shakes his head.

“It’s true.”

“Yeah, and I care about you because you’re also stupidly loyal and protective and you like to be a martyr all the time because you can’t stand for others to get hurt. You’re a werewolf that messes up but you still try. That’s not…that’s not why I…,” he trails off, trying to bring himself to say it.

“I think I love you,” Derek says, barely a whisper, “and I don’t know why.”

“ _That,_ ” Stiles gasps, the word releasing like pressure, “I don’t know why I love you. I don’t know why- I care about Scott and Liam and Malia; I care about them for some of the same exact reasons-,”

“But you don’t feel this way about them.”

“I don’t. I don’t and I don’t know why it would be you, why it would be the most difficult person it could possibly be,” he says, shaking his head, “why the _hell_ -,”

Miraculously, Derek doesn’t look hurt or insulted. He just stays there, taking it in, something in his expression telling Stiles the man has had the same exact thoughts. _What a pair we make,_ he thinks.

“There’s something there,” Derek says, “something we can’t explain. Maybe it’s nothing…”

“And maybe it’s not,” Stiles finishes, a flicker of hope burning in his chest.

It’s not what he was looking for but maybe that’s the point. Maybe he’s been looking in all the wrong places, chasing after someone else’s ideal. Imagining himself with a powerful young woman, pretending his love is monogamous and absolute. Maybe it’s not, he thinks, because if he’s honest he certainly loved Malia and pretending anything else is just shitty and insulting.

So maybe he’s not completely romantically given over to Lydia and maybe that’s fine and maybe it doesn’t even matter. Maybe this thing, whatever it is, won’t work. Maybe it’ll fail and he’ll be alone and then somehow he’ll meet Lydia and they’ll finally be on the same page.

And that’s fine.

Because he doesn’t have to know his future today and if he never takes chances, he’ll never grow. He’ll never learn. He’ll never be able to say for sure _it wouldn’t have worked_ or _it was everything I was looking for._

“You don’t have to try,” Derek says, bringing him back to the moment, “I just wanted you to know.”

“I know,” Stiles says, “but I’d still like to try. With you. If you want to.”

“…okay,” Derek says, his smile widening a little, looking more real and complete. He’s tentative and it makes Stiles warm, knowing the man is just as unsure as he is. Knowing that for once, they’re both completely lost.

“I should get home,” Stiles says, glancing towards the road in the distance, “my dad’s probably getting back soon.”

“Be safe,” Derek says quietly, hand hesitating. Stiles can just feel their fingers brush.

He lets Derek move this time, waiting for the man to move closer, unable to tell the color of his eyes. He decides they’re forest colored, fitting and ridiculously poetic, much like them. He smiles when Derek kisses him, thinking _if only I could tell Danny_. He thinks he’d get a knowing look and exasperated sigh.

All this time and he just kept asking the wrong questions, expecting the wrong answers. _Like insanity,_ he thinks, walking back to his car through the tangle of trees. Doing the same things over and over again.

Saving each other. Supporting. Except now they’re stepping outside of the loop and they both have no idea where it’ll take them.

**Author's Note:**

> Honk if you like Stiles and Lydia as platonic, supportive soulmates for life.  
> I kind of wanted to explore the idea of Stiles coming back for more than one person. While the whole "Lydia rescues Stiles" thing was nice, I also felt like it was very trope-ish and conventional. Mostly, I just wanted to explore the idea of friends working together to retreive him. After all, Pack is important, right? Anyways, I wrote this at like one a.m. so I'm sorry if it's kind of fractured. I hope you enjoy!


End file.
